


Light My Fire

by lupinisms



Series: Light My Fire [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fanfiction, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 11:25:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1816843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupinisms/pseuds/lupinisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They shared a lot more than cigarettes, firewhiskey and harmless teenage kicks within castle walls," Remus smirked, "They had plenty of chances - your parents made sure of that - but they ran out of time and life took them down two, entirely different paths."</p>
<p>Slightly AU, set mostly in OoTP with flashbacks to the Marauders Era and The Missing Years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light My Fire

* * *

  _ _War can do terrible things to people, especially the innocent ones. Fear and oppression can turn you against the ones you love. Just as he thought he'd figured out what was missing from his life, everything was taken away from him. It's almost been 12 years since Sirius Black was arrested and sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit. There are thousands of questions left unanswered, just as many "what-ifs", and the intense longing to learn about what is happening in the world beyond prison walls. But the dreams of being a free man that linger at the back of Sirius' mind are slowly beginning to diminish because the more he sees the moon wax and wane, the more time he knows he has lost.__

* * *

_**August, 1993** _

Tonight will be my one hundred and fortieth full moon.

That’s how long I’ve been here, locked in this cell. Alone. Cold. Staring at nothing but dark walls and dirty floors, with the chilling sound of tortured screams and the gloomy presence of hooded cloaked figures to keep me company.

That is, if I’ve been keeping track of the lunar cycle correctly. I could’ve missed a date or two. Then again, I wouldn’t be able to tell whether or not if I’ve been in here for a few months or a few decades – because in here, everything seems to last an eternity.

 "…Now, we don’t often allow visitors to come to Azkaban, nor do we really get many people requesting visits, for obvious reasons. Why you would visit this man in particular, is beyond me—"

“Minister, I can assure you that he is most likely no different to any of the other prisoners in here,” A woman’s voice replied.

A woman. I haven’t seen one of those in quite some time. Sure, there’s female prisoners - but they’re too far trapped inside their heads and aren’t really worth getting to know. I don’t really have much of a chance for socialising in here, anyway.

I vaguely remember one lesson in Muggle studies when we were learning about their legal systems and comparing them to our own. We read an excerpt from a heart-wrenching autobiography about the life of being a prisoner. In the Muggle world, prisoners were guarded by human officers, not Dementors. While they were subject to strict commands and physical punishment – what seemed harsh on those Muggles was nothing compared to having the sparks of your life sucked away by the chilling presence of the Demontors. Prisoners are even allowed to socialise with each other during mealtimes (which are held in a cafeteria) or daily group activities. No wonder that Muggle convicts still have a sense of sanity about them. In Azkaban, that is rarely ever the case. Some people hardly even last a week before the Dementors get to them them.

"I think you’ll be surprised," Cornelius answered, in a failure of a hushed tone.

I snorted.

How that incompetent fool became the Minister of Magic will always be beyond me. It’s hard to find out the latest news apart from the snippets of conversations I hear. From what I’ve gathered from the visitors who have walked past my cell, Azkaban officials and even the monthly Ministry inspectors - Fudge isn’t exactly “Minister” material.

I could still hear that woman’s voice drifting down the desolate hallway. Frowning, I ran my hands over my stubble, trying to remember the last time the gentle hands of a female companion had done that to me. That was one thing I missed the most - human touch. It’s almost maddening, not to have that. I could use a small tap on the shoulder just to let me know that everything is okay.

"I was doing some inspections the other day, and, well, he seemed fine to me back then. I’ve been told that he doesn’t even scream like the others. In fact, he looked bored."

 “Really?” The woman inquired, the sound of her shoes no longer echoing down the hall. She must’ve stopped walking.

"Is there something wrong, my lady?" Cornelius asked, a hint of worry in his voice. Merlin, he’s totally grovelling at this woman’s feet. She’s a probably a complete vixen. Maybe even a veela. If I’m lucky, she might pass by my cell and look at me. Or maybe she’s a woman of power, influence, or importance; which is enough to make Fudge feel inferior to her. Either that, or Fudge is as much of an incompetent flirt as he is at being the Minister of Magic.

Merlin’s beard, how does the British wizarding community trust Fudge enough to be a leader when all he does is kiss the ass of everyone who can potentially put his reputation at stake?

“Are you sure you want to continue on? I suppose this is a bit frighten—”

"Frightening?" The witch laughed, "I think you’re forgetting what I do for a living. I was just slightly bewildered by your observation, Cornelius. It wasn’t what I was expecting."

"Yes, well no one is really quite like him, I’ll give him that," Fudge replied bitterly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to have a quick briefing with Mr Black for a moment. In the meantime, I suggest you make your way over to the room we were in just a moment ago.”

 “Thank you, Cornelius.”

 I tried not to let out a bark of laughter as I realised that they must’ve been talking about me. I curiously peered out towards the bars, noticing the Minister himself had just stepped into my view. His eyes flickered nervously, locking with mine. He fidgeted with the cuffs of his robes before he unlocked the cell door.

As the sound of footsteps gradually got softer and softer, the Minister finally spoke, “You have a visitor.”

My eyebrows were raised in surprise. “A visitor? For me? Oh Corny, you shouldn’t have!” I guffawed.

“Don’t get too excited,” He replied bluntly, as two Dementors drifted towards me. I rolled my eyes at Fudge. He didn’t even trust me enough to be escorted by any Azkaban Security Officials. Word is that through the grapevine, those officials are quite possibly Aurors. I felt a shiver run down my spine, causing the hair on my arms and legs to stand up as that familiar, cold, and empty feeling washed over me. "This visitor isn't here to chat about the 'good old days' with you. Don't do anything to make her feel uncomfortable, and that includes asking questions. She specifically told me to mention that to you. The less you ask her, the better."

The Dementors led me to a part of the prison I’d never been to before. By the less dreary appearance of my surroundings, I presumed that this war was for those who had committed less severe crimes. My chains rattled as I trudged through the corridors, but the noise didn’t bother me. Neither did the feeling of the intense stares of the other inmates burning holes through my tattered clothes. Even the Dementors that were preying on my thoughts didn’t bother me. I’d learned how to develop a resistance to them: the knowledge of my innocence. I guess that’s how I’ve managed to keep my sanity in this wretched place. That, and my ingenious method of transforming into Padfoot whenever I had the strength to do so. The nights I can transform into Padfoot are the nights I actually find myself getting a decent sleep because I can comfortably put my mind to rest without the worry my sanity being preyed on. Who would’ve thought that becoming an unregistered animagus in my fifth year would have benefited me when I was imprisoned? The authorities weren’t aware of my status when I was arrested, so I wasn’t put into a cell that had special wards on it to restrict that sort of magic. I Trust me to find a flaw in the system. Dementors don’t affect animals in the way that they affect humans, much like how the bite of a werewolf doesn’t affect an animal – and thankfully, in my animagus form, despite not being a true black dog, I’m still impervious to both creatures.

My mind was racing with thoughts and my heart was racing with anticipation. Who in their right mind would want to visit me? No one knows what really happened that day. I never got the chance to tell my side of the story. Besides, what good would it have done? That _bloody, traitorous rat fooled us all, right til the very end. I thought that changing secret keepers would prevent me from being responsible for the Potter’s deaths. Yet, despite the change, I still killed_ them. I killed my best friends. I ruined my godson’s life.

The war made me fearful, paranoid, to the point where I didn’t trust anyone – including myself. I didn’t want to live with the guilty of revealing the Potter’s location in case I was tortured by Death Eaters, or Voldemort himself. I didn’t want to be responsible for the deaths of two of my closest friends and their only son. I played right into that _stupid, **stupid** rat’s_ hands.

_Remus._

I felt tears threatening to spill from my eyes as I remembered my dear friend. If only I knew how wrong I was about him. I let the war get in the way of the love I had for my friend, because in the end, on that horrible night I thought of him as a monster. A werewolf - a filthy, traitorous, half-breed. But in the end, he was just Remus. Remus - the most kind-hearted person I’d ever met. He wore his heart on his sleeve for his friends, because we accepted him for who he really was. I felt a pang of guilt shoot right through my system as I realised that he must’ve felt so betrayed by my alleged actions leading up to that accident. I was such a terrible friend to him in those months I believed him to be the traitor among us. An even worse pang shot through my system as another horrible thought dawned on me, the longer I thought about him.

_Tonight will be Remus’ one hundred and fortieth full moon spent alone, since 1981._

How _selfish_ I was to think that _I_ was the one who had lost everything? Poor Remus hardly had _anything_ to begin with. Whilst Remus was a highly intelligent wizard with exceptional skills, having aced all of his N.E.W.T.s in seventh year, his lycanthropy restricted his life. Honourable work was always difficult for him to come by; not many employers would allow monthly sick leave along with the extreme prejudice against werewolves. Often times, he had no choice but to take up Muggle jobs in order to scrape up enough money just to live. James and I never really approved of him living off such little necessities, but we understood that our friend didn’t want to be some sort of charity case. Although it didn’t stop us from casually slipping money into his coats, or making small deposits to his Gringott’s vault. Lily, on the other hand, was a lot more pushy about her “werewolf social advocacy” as we’d come to call it. Remus never stood a chance against Lily (then again, no could rebuff her if they tried) if she ever wanted to provide him adequate healing potions. I remember insisting that when the wolfsbane potion was available on the market, she would buy it for Remus each month development. It was an extremely heated argument, but in the end there were a few grateful tears shed. Yet, despite the difficulties of Remus’ life due to his lycanthropy, he had his friends. That was, until _bloody Peter_ ruined everything.

“Now, if you try _anything_ , I’ll make sure you suffer the consequences,” Cornelius said sternly, interrupting my thoughts. His eyes drifted towards the two Dementors floating on either side of me. Nodding, I opened the door, not quite prepared for the person who was sitting at the far end of the table.

“Hello Sirius,” The woman smiled, sitting up properly in her seat. She waved her arm graciously, instructing me to sit down.

“Fudge tells me you’re fond of crosswords?” Melisa almost laughs, folding out the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. “I didn’t think the news would really interest you.”

The front cover featured a family of wizards, with red hair, standing in front of the great pyramids of Egypt. Is this really what the news has come to? _Some family holiday gets featured on the front page?_

“Of course he did,” I muttered. “Besides, it looks like I’m not missing much,” I shrugged, nodding towards the photo.

Melisa’s eyes twinkled, “I think you’ll find that particular article interesting. Egypt is a really fascinating place.”

“You still work there?” I asked.

She nodded. “Anyway, you should read it. You’ll never know what you might learn.” Her index finger tapped on the moving image. “That’s Molly Weasley, although, you might be more familiar with her brothers Gideon and Fabian Prewett.”

My eyes widened in shock, “Molly Prewett’s family? _Merlin's beard_ , how many children are there?”

“There’s seven,” Melisa laughed, “Such a lovely family, they are. Actually, there’s two twin boys named Fred and George, you would love them.”

Leaning back in her chair, I watched carefully as she pushed her hair behind her ear revealing striking, ruby earrings that dangled from her lobes. That’s when my eyes travelled to Melisa’s robes, which were made of black velvet and were laced with deep, red trimming. They were held together with a clasp in the shape of a silver sphinx, which rested on top of her chest. She’s obviously wealthy, then. I assumed that since Melisa still worked in Egypt, she was most likely still a Gringott’s curse breaker. That would explain why she can afford to dress the way she does. Still...it didn’t explain why Fudge was grovelling at her feet.

She was ambitious as a teenager, although she rarely ever exerted the effort to reach her full potential. I remembered her as one of the best Seekers that the Gryffindor Quidditch team had seen in decades. Back in Hogwarts, she was widely known as a bright young witch, who was absolutely mad about Quidditch and had a knack for driving her best friend Lily Evans up the wall. I could confidently say that she could rival James at times. There were many sides to her to that not many people saw, and I like to think I was the only person who truly knew Melisa. I was extremely naïve, arrogant and thought I could control the world as though it were in the palm of my hands. I really thought I was above it all. The Sirius Black all the other students saw was the façade I’d created to hide the fractured, broken and flawed boy I truly was on the inside. I was ashamed and insecure, and I had a natural talent of screwing things up. But no matter how bad things got, when the once could call my brothers had turned their backs on me for my mistakes, Melisa was always there to support me. She couldn’t care less about sophistication and flaunting what she had and others didn't. I always thought that McGonagall had a difficult time deciding whether she favoured or detested Melisa. It wasn’t until our final years at Hogwarts, when Melisa decided she wanted to become a curse breaker to satisfy her wanderlust and thrill-seeking nature, that she finally decided to put more effort into her studies

Time has definitely changed her. There was an air of elegance about her that she never possessed before. As for her loyalty to me, well. She probably would’ve visited a lot sooner if she still was. Still, I had a multitude of questions I wanted to ask her but I knew better than to overstep my boundaries. This isn’t exactly a visit between two old friends wishing to catch up. Melisa is here for a reason and while that isn’t clear to me – and knowing her, she won’t make that clear – I may as well just enjoy her company.

 “Anyway, like I said before…” She coughed, stopping the awkward silence that was about to fill the room. “I just wanted to make sure that you have this article.”

 “You came all the way to Azkaban just to make me read an article about the Weasley’s wonderful adventure to Egypt?” I replied flatly. I felt somewhat deflated that this was the reason she came to visit me. In the following moment, if I had blinked, I would’ve missed the small smirk that disappeared as soon as it formed upon her pink lips. As she wordlessly stood to make her way towards the door, one particular question that was eating away at me finally slipped out. It seemed that I couldn’t control my tongue if my life depended on it.

“How’s Remus?”

Hovering beside me, Melisa stopped to look at me. She held my gaze, her eyes flashing with a range of emotions before a smile lit her entire face. I had to ask. Tonight's the full moon after all. 

“I’d be lying if I said the Wizarding world has finally gotten their heads out of their arses and stopped discriminating on sufferers of lycanthropy. Things have been difficult for Remus, but I’ve been there every step of the way. I just can’t afford to lose him, not now when…” Melisa trailed off, shaking her head before her eyes met mine once more. “Things are coming around for him though. He recently got hired as the new Defence against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts.”

“Merlin, if anyone deserves it, it’s Remus,” I replied, feeling proud for my old friend.

Melisa nodded, “Dumbledore really is something special.”

The mention of the Hogwarts headmaster made my whole body tense; he was one of the people who didn’t think twice about throwing me into Azkaban. Turns out the man isn’t as intuitive as everyone thinks. Still, I didn’t have the heart to let any snide remarks fall from my mouth because the look on Melisa’s face was one of complete joy. She looked so happy for Remus. _It made me wonder…a lot can change in twelve years and a lot can certainly happen._ Especially between two friends that got left behind in the cruelest of ways.

“Remus is kind, intelligent and nothing less than a gentleman. The amount of patience he has is beyond me, that man is definitely cut out for teaching. I know he’ll do well,” Melisa sighed fondly. She fiddled with her fingers before looking into my eyes again.

It only just dawned on me, the difficult of this visit for her especially after I was framed for that _darn rat’s_ awful betrayal. Before that though, our close friendship was growing tense much to the dismay of James and Lily, who had made us the godparents of their newly born son, Harry. I could only imagine surmise that standing in front of the man who she thought was responsible selling her best-friends to Voldemort must be hurting her so much inside. Like me, there were questions eating away at her despite her remarkably composed demeanor. I knew exactly what she was thinking.

_How could you betray Lily and James? I feel like I didn’t even know you, were you always like the rest of your family? Why would you betray the ones you love? Was it worth it? Did it make you feel worthy of the Dark Lord?_

“Remus deserves a happy life, a secure job that disregards his lycanthropy and pays him a full wage, and a woman that loves him unconditionally,” She eventually finished.

“And do you?”

“Do I what?” Melisa chuckled.

“You know,” I shrugged, shuffling my feet. _Now isn’t the time._ But then again, I don’t think I’ll ever get the chance to know.

“Love him, unconditionally?” I asked.

Melisa frowned at me for a few moments before her expression became completely blank. The thought of why she had learned to mask her true emotions like that suddenly entered my brain. She could have fooled me if I didn’t notice her eyes betraying her emotions. Those eyes _always_ gave her away. They were telling me a different story – one of many emotions that evoked memories of happiness, and memories of pain.

“There is only one man I could ever love unconditionally,” She answered softly. “That man isn’t Remus.”

A glimmer directed my attention to her fingers, which were splayed in front of me to show a stunning, golden jeweled ring on her finger.

“Congratulations,” I forced a smile.

Laughing bitterly, Melisa ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. “Oh, not everyone marries because they’ve found someone they love. I certainly didn’t.” She paused, a frown once returning onto a once, carefree, happy face. “The man my heart truly belongs to was taken from me…”

“Death Eaters?” I asked, before slapping a hand over my mouth. I felt incredibly embarrassed as a result of my lack of manners. My social skills were out of practice.

 She nodded, “You could say that.”

 “I’m so sorry,” I finally offered, knowing I couldn’t really say, or do anything to help her.

Melisa shook her head, “It was never _your_ fault Sirius.”


End file.
